


The First Thing You Ever Said To Me

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, M/M, Multi, brief anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2108634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee Shop AU + Soul Mates AU</p><p>Everyone has a Soul Mate. Some time before you meet your Soul Mate, a black smudge will appear somewhere on your body. This smudge will eventually turn into Words.<br/>Words are the first thing your Soul Mate will say to you.<br/>This is the story of how Stiles met Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Words over Coffee

The coffee shop Stiles worked at was near the Beacon Hills High School. School had just started again, so every day Stiles saw students go to and from the school, and many of them would stop by to get caffeinated to make the day more endurable. _Those suckers_. Stiles still thanked the universe he’d graduated a couple of months ago, and never had to go back to that hellhole.

The shop was a cute place with pink and light yellow walls that kind of made Stiles think of a grandmother’s house, even though he’d never actually visited anyone’s grandmother…  
Tables took up the places by the windows, so customers could look out into the quiet street where the occasional car whizzed past, and on each table was a vase with a single flower.

"Dude," Stiles groaned. "What are you even doing?"

Scott looked up at him from where he'd been looking at his biceps.

"What? I'm trying to see what it says! The first word could be something like... _ha_ or _he_..? Or... something.. no, maybe that’s an m…"

At Stiles' questioning look, Scott broke out:

"I don't know! I'm losing my mind here, Stiles! I've had this thing for- what, a _week_ now? It should be visible by now. Hell, Danny's was visible after three days! And just the thought of my Soul Mate being out there…” Scott quieted down a bit, and Stiles had to strain to hear his next words.  
“I don’t know… I just want to meet her… Or him… Hell, I wouldn’t even mind if it were a dude, that’s how bad I want to find- ” Scott broke off as the manager gave him a warning look. Stiles grimaced at the jerk when he turned his back, and then consoled his best friend in a whisper:

"It's different with everyone, you know that, Scott, so don't let it get you down. Soon your Words will be completely visible, and you’ll meet her- or him.” Stiles beamed. “Now get your ass over here and make a soy latte."

_______

That summer in Beacon Hills was quiet. A lot of people had gone to different countries, like Danny and Ethan, who'd gone to Brazil to celebrate them being Soul Mates. Stiles remembered that day in the showers after lacrosse practice. Something black on Danny’s left shoulder blade had coincidentally caught his eye – because of course he would never check out his friend’s drool-worthy back muscles and ass, Stiles is better than that, dammit.

“Hey dude, I think you’re getting your Words.”

Danny had whipped around, eyes wide, and what followed was a session of “okay, if you hold the mirror at that angle- a bit more to the right- dammit Stilinski, the _other_ right”.  
A couple of days later, the words _What did I miss?_ were visible on his back, and when Ethan enrolled in the High School a month later, and arrived late to the first class on his first day, he whispered those exact words to Danny.

The appearance of Words, with a capital W, was one of the most important events in one’s life. Words were the first thing your Soul Mate would ever say to you. They commonly appeared a couple of weeks before you met the person. Some people got their Words when they were just toddlers – though that was very rare – and others could go through half their lives without getting them.

Stiles was excited on Scott’s behalf, of course he was. And if he regularly had to nudge away the uncertain thought that _what if_ he _never got his words?_ it was nobody else’s business but his own.

Stiles and Scott graduated High School a few months back and decided to take a sabbatical, working in the new coffee shop in town. Stiles had been scraping together quite a lot of money throughout High School by tutoring freshmen, so even though his dad was sad to see him go (or relieved, whatever), Stiles moved into a studio apartment. He still had his beloved jeep, so he frequently made surprise visits to his dad to make sure he lived off healthier food than fast food.

“Hey dad!” Stiles yelled as he made his way into the kitchen holding a few grocery bags. A sleepy Sheriff appeared in the doorway a moment after.

“You’re sleeping at-” Stiles looked at the clock. “5 PM? _Really?_ Should I start looking into retirement homes, old man?”

The Sheriff glared at him, but Stiles knew he loved when his son visited.

“What did you bring this ti- Salad? Spinach?” His dad gave him a pointed look. “Do I look like a goddamn rabbit?”

“Hey, don’t insult my cooking skills! In twenty minutes, this will all look delicious. A nice Greek salad and spinach lasagna, what do ya say, huh?” Stiles said enthusiastically with a smile that would have brought the Cheshire cat’s to shame.

John shook his head fondly, and started putting plates on the table.

They ate in comfortable silence. Once in a while, Stiles sneaked peaks at his dad’s Words on the side of the man’s neck. They read _So you’re the one I’ve been waiting for all week?_ Those Words never failed to make Stiles smile. They were just so… _Mom_.

“What are you smiling about, son?”

“Your Words.” Stiles said, hesitantly. Memories of his mom were both good and bad. It felt nice to remember how she used to smile wide and as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But then Stiles couldn’t help but think how he’d never see that smile again. He didn’t bring mom up much when he was with his dad. It was too painful. But he had been thinking so much about Words lately (what with Scott’s Words, and Danny’s too, appearing), so he wanted his dad’s take on it.

“How did it feel?” Stiles started, and quickly explained. “To get your words?” He’d asked Scott as soon as the skin on his biceps had started darkening, but as a man of a very simple nature, Scott had only shrugged.

“It felt a bit… tingly.” The Sheriff stated, and Stiles huffed at the vague answer.

“Anyway, why this sudden interest in Words? When it comes to Soul Mates, you’ve always been one of the most disinterested people I’ve known, so why now?” John sounded bewildered, his brow furrowed. And it was true, Stiles had never bothered enough to obsess over who his Soul Mate might be, or when he’d get his Words, or ‘oh, I hope my Soul Mate is rich and famous’. He’d avoided – very successfully until recently – thinking about Soul Mates at all.

“Scott got his.” Stiles murmured, pushing his food around on his plate with a fork, not even sure why he was feeling so melancholy. “I mean, he can’t read ‘em yet. Right now it’s just a black smudge on his arm, but it’s definitely his Words.”

“Oh.” John said quietly, before continuing in a more cheerful tone. “Good for him!”

“Hey, how about some cake, huh, son?” He went to the fridge, and from it, he ceremoniously presented two plates each with a, frankly, very delicious-looking piece of cake.

“Dad-”

“No, it’s _carrot_ cake, so it’s healthy!”

“Healthy, my ass!” Stiles scoffed. “They fill that stuff with all kinds of unhealthy stuff, put a bit of carrot and additional carrot flavor in it, and call it _carrot cake_ , so they can sell it to people who think they are making a healthy choice by choosing it over chocolate cake.”

“But…Stiles!” His father all but whined, and gave him a puppy-eyed look that Stiles just _knew_ he’d learned from Scott.

“…okay, but only this _one_ time, and I don’t wanna see you eating any more sweets for the next week!”

They ate the cake while watching the game on tv. They didn’t mention Words for the rest of the night. Stiles figured it distressed his dad to think of Words since the Sheriff knew he’d never see his Soul Mate again. But Stiles still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 _When would_ he _get his Words?_


	2. Time is Tick-Tick-Ticking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Stiles has an anxiety attack in this chapter! It is only briefly described, but if this triggers you, I suggest you skip this chapter.

_“DON’T STOP, MAKE IT POP_  
DJ, BLOW MY SPEAKERS UP  
TONIGHT, I’MMA FIGHT  
‘TIL WE SEE THE SUNLIGHT  
TICK TOCK-”

“Scott, there better be a goddamn dead body in the woods that you want to search for or so help me, God, I will make you suffer for calling me this early.” Stiles croaked into the phone, his head hanging off the bed, trying to fish out the alarm clock he accidentally knocked over in his haste to answer the call.

“Stiles… My Words…”

Stiles straightened upon hearing Scott sounding so shocked.

“Can you read them? Well, what do they say, Scott?” Silence. “Scott?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here.” He said in a gravelly tone of voice. “And it’s better if you see it for yourself.”

Stiles looked over at the clock. 7 AM. He had an hour before work at the coffee shop.

“I’m coming over. Wait there.”

_______

Scott quickly shooed Stiles into his room, and closed the door carefully. He was wearing a hoodie, though it was like 80 degrees out, and if that wasn’t freaking Stiles out enough, then the wild look in Scott’s eyes was definitely doing the trick.  
A lot of things could go wrong with Words. Even though someone is your Soul Mate doesn’t mean that the circumstances of your first meeting is perfect. Stiles had heard of someone who’s Words were _Dude, you dropped your eggplant_ and one of his dad’s old friends had _Oh shit, was that your brother I just screwed in the bathroom?_ (Not to mention that as a barista, you have increased chances of your Words turning out to be _I’d like a_ _n iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte with soy milk_ ).

Without a word, Scott took the hoodie off, and dropped it on his bed.

Well. That was unexpected.

On Scott’s biceps on his arm was a line of scribbled Words.

And a bit beneath that one was another.

“Two sets of Words?” Stiles spoke, his own voice ringing in his ears in the silence.

He stepped forward, close enough to read what was written, and would be permanent marks on Scott forever.

The above one read _Hey, do you have a pen I could borrow?_ (Stiles only _just_ kept from snorting out loud), and the second set of Words read _Well, this is definitely interesting._

“Shit, Scott!” Stiles exclaimed, and excitedly grabbed Scott’s shoulders. “You’ve got _two_ Soul Mates. I’ve heard about something like this happening before, but I never- shit, dude, I guess you never really consider it could happen to you until it actually happens!”

“I realize it could be worse, but I guess I’m just a bit… well, it’s just kind of surprising and sudden.”

“Well, you should be ecstatic, Scott! Most people only get one Soul Mate but you get two, you lucky bastard!”

“Yeah…” Scott seemed to mull it over in his mind. “Yeah, I- uhm, I guess you’re right. I don’t know, I think I’ll feel better once I actually _meet_ them.”

“Of course, and uh- I’m sure they’re great people!” Stiles clasped his hands together in front of him, not meeting Scott’s gaze, and gestured nervously to the door. “I-uh. I should go. Coffee shop.”

He’d just reached the door, when Scott cleared his throat.

“Stiles? We both work there, remember?” He sounded worried, like Stiles was losing it or something, but no, Stiles was definitely not _losing_ it. He didn’t want- _shouldn’t_ want a Soul Mate. He’d never felt the need to have a partner, an equal, who would fit him perfectly, compliment him in a way that no other can, and he would sure as hell not start throwing a tantrum, because he hadn’t gotten his Words yet.  
Hell, maybe he would never get his Words. Maybe he’d lie on his deathbed in 70 years, having lived an unfulfilling life because he had never found his Soul Mate, and then, because the universe obviously hated him, he’d be breathing his last couple of breaths, look down, and on his hand would be a black smudge, his Words beginning to form, and Stiles would know the terrible truth that he wouldn’t even live long enough to lay eyes on the person who was his Soul Mate.

Stiles’ breathing had gone ragged, his eyes blurred with tears not shed.  
 _He was going to die alone._  
He was bent over, his arms around his stomach. He heard Scott as if he was very far away, but he knew he was right there, because Stiles could feel his hands on his shoulders.

“Stiles? Stiles?” A taut voice – Scott’s voice – whispered. “Remember your breathing exercises? Four-second inhale, hold your breath for seven seconds, and eight seconds where you exhale.”

Stiles concentrated, zooming in on Scott’s voice. Scott who’d been there for him when his mother died, and the aftermath, when Stiles had had panic attacks regularly for _months_. He had barely slept back then, too wrapped up in the fact that his mother was gone. But Scott had been there for him.

4 seconds inhale.

7 seconds holding breath.

8 seconds exhale.

Stiles repeated until he felt better. His head cleared, and he no longer felt like an anvil was crushing his chest.

Scott cautiously turned him around, and hugged him, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

_______

Scott had been sending him nervous, worried glances for the past hour.

“Scott, I know I’m a hot piece of pie with a cherry on top but you’re spoken for.” He looked pointedly at Scott’s covered biceps, and his friend rolled his eyes, and turned to service a new customer.

The day seemed to go on forever. Stiles’ feet jittered as he bounced between making different kind of coffees and teas, taking muffins off the shelves, and distributing each to the right customer. He got it wrong a couple of (dozen) times; giving green tea to a man who’d “clearly stated that I wanted black coffee, two sugars, is that so difficult to comprehend?”

When his and Scott’s shift finally ended, they were both so eager to get out of there that they almost tripped over their own feet, running to the door.

“Ahh! Fresh air!” Stiles exclaimed, and threw his hands up in the air. “I’d almost forgotten what freedom felt like.”

“Come on, let’s get home! I’m in the mood for a Supernatural marathon!” Scott said, and clasped Stiles’ shoulder, and they started walking. Stiles never bothered taking the jeep to work, because both Scott and him lived relatively close to the shop. Also because Stiles had started getting chubby from the lack of exercise, and the excessive amounts of curly fries he ingested, but yeah…

This next incident happened very fast. Stiles was never the biggest fan of incidents that suddenly changed one’s life (e.g. his mother dying), but this one wasn’t so terrible.

Stiles saw her even before her hand landed on Scott’s shoulder to get his attention, and he knew it was happening even before she opened her mouth to say the Words.

“Hey, do you have a pen I could borrow?” The girl – _young woman_ – was gorgeous. Her dark brown hair cascaded in a glory of waves from her head, and her eyes were dark and soulful. She looked expectantly up at Scott, whose mouth was hanging open – _charming, Scott_ – and then the beauty looked questioningly at Stiles, who just shrugged, and kicked Scott in the shin. That pulled Scott out of his stupor, and he closed his mouth, and opened it again to say-

“Excuse me- sorry,” A guy came running up to the brunette. “You dropped your bag!” He presented said bag, and the brunette’s face split into a joyful smile. The guy was tall – _really_ tall – and his hair was curly and had a delightful light brown color. His smile was endearing, and he stood a bit awkwardly as if he were insecure in his own body.

The brunette spoke to the new guy: “You’re my Soul Mate, then?” She still wore that shit-eating grin on her face, and the transformation in the tall guy, as he realized those were the Words he’d been waiting to hear, was stunning. Pure happiness painted his face, and he no longer seemed uncomfortable.

Some time in the last minute, Scott must have figured out that the two people in front of him were his Soul Mates, because his jaw had dropped again.

The girl and the tall guy seemed to finally notice them, and as if they knew – as if they could _sense_ it – their gazes gravitated toward Scott, and they waited for him to say something; waited for him to say the Words.

“Is this really happening?” He asked them, both confused and as overjoyed as a puppy at the same time – classic Scott – and the two recognized the Words, and started laughing, until the guy stopped to speak:

“Well, this is definitely interesting!”

Scott grinned, and said his name was Scott Mccall.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Allison. Argent.”

“Isaac Lahey.” The tall curly-haired guy said with a simply adorable smile.

“Uh, I’m Stiles.” Stiles said awkwardly, and offered a tiny wave with his hand.

“I-yep, I should get going!” Stiles said, feeling awkward in the group of people who were each other’s Soul Mates, while he, himself, was very much alone. Not that Stiles was feeling sorry for himself, but- yeah, okay, maybe he was feeling a tiny bit sorry for himself. But still he turned to Scott, clasped his shoulder, and said “I’m really happy for you, Scott,” and he meant it. If anyone in the world deserved to be happy, it was, without a doubt, Scott.

His best friend seemed sad to see him leave, but he knew as well as Stiles, that the first couple of hours were the most important for Soul Mates. You had to bond in those hours, get to know each other, create a trustful and loving atmosphere in the relationship, and all that shit. So, Stiles left for his apartment.

_______

Over the next week, Stiles didn’t see a lot of Scott. As in, he didn’t see Scott at all. Scott texted him a couple of times, saying how amazing Allison and Isaac were, how he didn’t know why he had worried so much about being in a relationship with two people, and Stiles once responded with _plus have you noticed how hot both of them are, damn, you really lucked out, Scott._

Scott had even taken a temporary leave from work at the coffee shop. Not that that surprised Stiles. It was common that once you found your Soul Mate(s), you’d take a Bonding Leave. It was a legal form of leave that had been invented to make room for new Mates to bond in the beginning of the relationship. Bonding Leaves usually lasted about a week or two.

Seven days had gone by; still no Scott. Stiles missed his best friend, but he also rationalized, that if it were himself who’d just found his Soul Mate, then he’d take time to bond too.

Stiles shook himself out of his own thoughts, and went back to the book he’d enjoyed before he’d become engrossed in thoughts of Scott.

He’d come ten minutes early for his shift, which is why he was currently sitting, reading, at a table in the coffee shop. Twenty minutes ago, Stiles had awoken with a start, looked over at his clock, and panicked, because if he was late one more time, the manager would give him shit all day. Not again. Go figure that he hurried so much, he actually arrived early.

Movement in his peripheral vision made him look up just as the source of the movement took the seat at his table. And Stiles had never seen such a _fine_ source of movement before in his life.  
The guy was probably a couple of years older than him – 24 years old, was Stiles’ guess – and was dark-haired, with adorable black-rimmed glasses, and a dark scruff.

“Hello.” Stiles breathed out the word, and fleetingly thought the guy had sat down across from him by mistake. That thought was pushed aside as soon as the guy smiled at him, and straight white teeth flashed from between his perfectly formed, kissable lips.

“What are you reading?” The guy inquired, and _damn_ , Stiles was not prepared to hear a voice that throaty and gruff at this early in the morning. He blushed – and then Stiles immediately tried to will the blush away. The guy laughed soundlessly, which only made him blush more.

He lifted his book from the table, and showed him the cover that said _Encyclopedia of Spirits: The Ultimate Guide to the Magic of Fairies, Genies, Demons, Ghosts, Gods & Goddesses._ Yeah, so Stiles was a bit of a nerd.

“You’re a nerd, aren’t you?” The guy said with a smirk, as if he’d read Stiles’ thoughts. And Stiles was _really_ hoping he couldn’t read his thoughts right at that moment.

“Sue me.” He answered with a shrug.

“I won’t,” The guy leaned forward a bit, and lowered his voice, as if he were telling Stiles a secret. “Nerdiness just happens to be my favorite quality in a person. And I’m a nerd too, so it would be hypocritical of me to hold it against you.” He grinned, and Stiles immediately felt comfortable with him.

“I’m Derek,” The guy – _Derek_ – said.

“Stiles-”

“ _Stiles_ ,” His manager called from the counter. “Your flirting session is over, your shift is starting.”

He stood up, feeling a bit embarrassed, and fumbled to fit his book into his backpack.

“You work here?” Derek asked curiously. He stood up, the same as Stiles.

“Yeah, the uh- the pay’s lousy, but the people are nice. And it’s conveniently close to my apartment, so I don’t have to waste money on gas.” Stiles knew he was babbling, the redundancy of what he was talking about hit him as the sentence ended, and he, once again, blushed. He swore under his breath. He wasn’t usually a blushing kind of person, but this _Derek_ somehow brought it out in him. If that were a good thing or a bad thing, Stiles would have to figure out later.

He hurried to the counter, but not before calling out a hesitant _“See you around?”_ over his shoulder. Derek was already moving to the door, but turned to smile and nod at Stiles before he disappeared out into the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Stiles is reading in this chapter: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2761067-encyclopedia-of-spirits
> 
> Thank you for reading and for any feedback (kudos or comments) that you give me! :)


	3. Disappointments, Complications, and Spilling Sauce on a White Shirt

The next day, Stiles bounced all the way to the shop. He was in a great mood. The sun was shining down on him, not _one_ measly cloud could be seen on the sky, and Stiles felt _alive._

Ever since the day before, Stiles had not been able to think about anything, or anyone, other than Derek. He thought about the depth of his eyes – they seemed to contain an entire universe, and how was it even possible for _eyes_ to be so _pretty_ – the bit of chest hair that was visible where his V-neck dipped low, how his lips curled as he smiled. He thought about every last detail. And Stiles wanted to learn _more_. In the span of a dozen hours, he had developed an insatiable thirst to learn more about this gruff-voiced, glass-wearing, nerd of a hottie, who’d dropped into the seat across from him yesterday.

So, when he stepped through the door of the coffee shop, the morning after his meeting with the man, his eyes scanned the room, looking for the unmistakable, muscled, dark-haired guy named _Derek_.

 _Well, this is disappointing_ , he thought. No Derek. Stiles’ smile died. Hmph.

He trudged over to the counter, feeling like shit. Maybe Derek wasn’t interested in him after all. It would be understandable, since Stiles was _Stiles_ , and Derek was… well, _Derek_. In what universe would someone like him ever go for someone like clumsy, gawky, awkward Stiles, who frequently tripped over his own limbs? _Just a second… calculating the possibility for the existence of such a universe… Calculation complete. Result: such a universe has -4% possibility of existing. Exactly. It is so impossible that it has a negative percent chance of existing._

Stiles’ shift felt impossibly long, and he glanced at the clock every chance he got. Work at the shop was tedious without Scott, and Stiles made sure to check his phone every now and again, in the hopes that his best friend might have texted – but he never did.

A couple of minutes before the end of Stiles’ shift, Derek entered.

His heart immediately sped up at the sight of the older guy. He wore a pair of slim jeans that clung magnificently to his muscled legs, a dark red tank top, and a black leather jacket (which made Stiles squint, because it was still summer and the weather was extremely hot).

Derek glided smoothly to the counter.

“Stiles.” He said with a soft smile on his lips, and Stiles wondered if he could hear his heart beat through his chest – it seemed _so_ loud in Stiles’ ears.

“Hey Derek, what can I get you?” He said cheerfully, pretending not to feel the blush entering his cheeks.

“Uhh-” Derek looked up at the menu on the wall, squinting his eyes – _adorably_ – through his glasses. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, I have an insatiable sweet tooth, so I always go with the cinnamon latte with extra whipped cream, and cocoa powder on top,” At Derek’s impressed look, Stiles hurried: “But that’s just me!”

“When’s your shift over?”

“In about,” Stiles looked over at the clock. “Five minutes.”

“Okay, then I’ll take a cinnamon latte with extra whipped cream, and cocoa powder on top,” Derek smirked when Stiles’ eyes widened. “And a black coffee.”

“O-okay.” Stiles didn’t want to assume, but was Derek asking him to have a drink with him when his shift ended? Would it be like, a _date_? He slid the two drinks across the counter to Derek’s waiting hands.

“I’ll be waiting for you over there,” Derek gestured to a table with the cup holding Stiles’ favorite drink, and Stiles grinned.

A couple of minutes after, Stiles rushed to the table Derek had chosen in the corner of the room by a window. He slid into the chair across from the older man.

“Hey again, hot stuff,” Stiles said with a tremulous voice filled with excitement. Wait- had he just called Derek _hot stuff_?! A hole could have opened up beneath him and swallowed him, and he would have been 110% okay with it. Derek chuckled and Stiles took a gulp of his cinnamon drink to shut himself up.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s appropriate to ask someone on a first date,” _Date?!_ Derek said date, right? Stiles hadn’t just imagined that? “I don’t want my lack of social skills to scare you away…” Derek ended the sentence with a look of uncertainty, and Stiles probably looked like a gaping fish right then – still stuck on the _date_ thing.

“Okay, I’ll try.” Derek’s gruff voice pulled Stiles out of his stupor. “So, when you’re not working at this place – what do you do?”

Oh, _shit_ , he was asking Stiles questions because they were on a _date_. Stiles had not in a million years seen this coming.

“Uhm, I hang out with my friends?” It came out like an unsure question, and Stiles quickly recovered and continued. “I graduated High School a couple of months ago, so right now I’m just taking pleasure in the knowledge that I won’t ever have to go back to that place.”

For some reason, Stiles’ candor statement made Derek break out in laughter. His laugh was a deep, sure sound that bubbled up from his stomach, and spilled out through his mouth, and Stiles could have listened to it for hours.

“Yeah, I get that,” Derek said once he’d finished laughing. “I’ve actually just gone back to High School.”

Stiles tilted his head in confusion.

“As a teacher.” Derek answered Stiles’ unspoken question.

Oh. And Stiles had just said how glad he was to never go back… Now Derek probably thought he was an idiot or something. The other man chuckled at Stiles’ sheepish look.

“What do you teach?”

“History. And astronomy too, but mostly history.”

“No shit?” Stiles gasped eloquently.

“No shit.” He grinned. “Teaching is more fun than you’d expect, and definitely more fun than being a student,” Derek snorted. “I get to see all the poor students panic when I give them a surprise pop quiz.”

“You’re evil.” Stiles said fondly. “I spent a lot of my time in High School worrying about pop quizzes, and disliking the teachers who handed them out.”

“Hopefully, you don’t dislike me.” Derek said with one perfect eyebrow raised.

“You’re not my teacher.” Stiles answered with a shrug, and thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t one year younger – then Derek would have been his teacher, and the Sheriff would without a doubt get his guns out if his son was dating his teacher.

He could have spent the whole day sitting with Derek at the corner table of the little coffee shop. The man was fascinating to say the least. He talked about his family: his mother Talia, his sisters, Cora and Laura, and his uncle Peter. They sounded like the kind of family Stiles had always wanted. Each with his or her faults, but together they make up a family, a safe home.

Stiles knew Derek wasn’t his Soul Mate, and that he wasn’t Derek’s – Stiles still hadn’t gotten his Words, and he hadn’t seen any on the other man. That wouldn’t stop them from dating though.  
Dating someone other than your Soul Mate was very common if the people dating still hadn’t gotten their Words. Many people had to wait a long time before they met their one true partner, but that didn’t mean they were just going to wait around.  
Plus, Derek and he… they felt _right_. They might not be Soul Mates, but they were definitely _something_.

“ _DON’T STOP, MAKE IT POP_  
DJ, BLOW MY SPEAKERS UP  
TONIGHT, I’MMA FI-”

“Shit- hey Scott, my man, what’s up?” Stiles answered the call, and mouthed a quiet ‘sorry’ to Derek, whose face was all but splitting, he was laughing so hard. Derek mouthed back ‘Ke$ha?! _Really?_ ’, and Stiles stuck out his tongue. The other man was probably just jealous of Stiles’ awesome ring tone.

“Stiles, dude, I’m _so_ sorry for not getting back to you – you must have been worried, huh? Jeez, I’m such a jackass!” He heard Scott say on the phone.

“It’s fine, man! It’s alright,” Stiles said. “I’m just glad you’re having fun with your Soul Mates, m‘kay?” Stiles grimaced when Derek sent him an inquiring look.

“You sure?” Scott said, and Stiles could hear the smile in his voice. “’Cuz I gotta tell you, they are really fun to be around!”

“That’s good,” Stiles muttered into the phone. “Glad you’re having fun. Now don’t forget about your best friend now, alright?” He said it jokingly, but a tiny bit of him meant it. Scott laughed that he could never do that, and that he’d be back at work in three days tops.

“O-okay,” Stiles didn’t want to keep Derek waiting. “Gotta go, buddy, but we’ll talk soon, yeah?”

They hung up.

“That was your… best friend?”

“Scott, yeah,” Stiles said, playing with a napkin on the table. “He found his Soul Mates a week ago.”

Derek’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. “Plural?”

“Yep. Two Soul Mates, lucky little shit.” Stiles smirked, however the other man seemed to notice the sadness behind the sass and the smirk. Derek reached across the table, and laid a warm hand on the hand that had been playing with the napkin. The touch was gentle, and Stiles’ gaze flew up to meet Derek’s kind, green eyes.

“You’ll find yours too someday,” A smile filled with understanding made Stiles’ stomach flutter. Yeah, of course, Stiles _would_ find his Soul Mate someday. But right now, he couldn’t imagine anyone he’d rather be with than Derek.

“Have you found yours?” Stiles asked. But of course, Derek wouldn’t be sitting here with Stiles right now, if he had. Would he? “Or gotten your Words? Sorry, but I have to ask!”

Derek’s hand retreated, leaving Stiles’ oddly cold. “It’s complicated.”

_Uh-oh._

It didn’t look like Derek was ready to say anything more on the subject, but luckily, Stiles was saved from the awkward moment, by a noise from his phone.

A text from his dad read: _Stiles, isn’t there something you’ve forgotten?_

Damn, Stiles had been too preoccupied by the fact that this was _Derek_ in front of him, an amazingly smart, kind, funny, good-looking guy ( _who just answered that “it’s complicated” to a very important question_ , thought Stiles to himself), who wanted _Stiles_ of all people. He’d been so distracted he completely forgot about his deal with his dad; that they were to have dinner at the Sheriff’s house that day.

“Look, Derek,” Stiles smiled apologetically at the man across from him. “I gotta go.”

“If this was because of what I said-”

“No- no! Definitely not,” He hurriedly stated as he awkwardly clambered out of the chair, almost knocking it over in the process. “It’s just- I remembered that I have to go eat dinner at my dad’s house, so it’s not you- I mean, you’re not the reason I’m leaving! I realize this sounds like the kind of thing someone would say to get out of a bad date- not that this was a bad da-”

 _Shit_ , Stiles was screwing this up.

“ _Hey_!” Derek exclaimed and grabbed his flailing arms with both his hands. Stiles quieted, and while he looked at the sticky floor of the coffee shop, he waiting for the inevitable rejection from Derek. The _“Stiles, you’re a great guy, but we shouldn’t see each other anymore”_ and like that, the relationship would be over before it had even begun.  
What Stiles hadn’t expected was the other man slowly leaning into his personal space. Stiles watched as Derek’s eyes fluttered shut, and his lips met Stiles’.

With a small noise of surprise Stiles let his own eyes close, and leaned into the comfort of Derek’s warm body. The kiss was gentle. Just a soft touch of lips, but it was more perfect than Stiles could have imagined.

Derek pulled away. One of his hands let go of Stiles’ arm to tenderly touch his jaw.

For a moment they just looked into each other’s eyes. “ _I trust you_.” Derek whispered.

Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

_______

All the way to the Sheriff’s house, Stiles kept touching his lips. His smile was wide as he strutted into the house he’d grown up in.

“What’s with you? You look… chipper.” His dad said when he saw him.

“Oh, nothing, daddy-o,” Stiles answered in a singsong voice, and practically _skipped_ to a seat at the table. It was the Sheriff’s turn to make dinner to the both of them, and he’d made a delicious-looking sweet potato pie with basil sauce. The scent of the meal filled the room, and Stiles’ mouth watered.

“Stiles, either you tell me or I’ll just assume you’re on drugs,” John stated. “Your choice.”

“Urgh, dad,” Stiles groaned, and shoveled another mouthful of food into his mouth.  
Telling his dad wasn’t really that big a deal, because he _wanted_ his father to know he was dating someone. That fact just wouldn’t keep him from milking this as much as he could. Stiles could probably have built this up much more, but he was too excited to drag it out any longer. It was a wonder he hadn’t yelled it as soon as he’d entered the house. “Okay, then, but only because I’m not in the mood for another drug test.”

Stiles paused for dramatic effect, and his dad gave him an impatient look.

“I went on a date today!” He finally squealed excitedly.

“Really? Stiles that’s great! Is it someone I know?”  
Stiles’ dad had known about his bisexuality for a long time, so when he asked ‘is it someone I know’, it was his way of avoiding saying any pronouns.

“Yes, he’s actually more than nice. I mean, dad, this guy’s _amazing_! Derek Hale, you know him?”

“Right, the new teacher over at the High School.” He frowned at Stiles. “And how old is this Derek?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly the first thing I ask someone, dad, but I guess he’s around twenty…four?” He carefully watched his dad’s face for any sign that he should have lied and said a lower number. 

“Hmph,” John exhaled noisily. “Well, I look forward to meet him.” 

“Thanks, dad.” And Stiles was grateful. Deeply so. He couldn’t envision ever dating someone his dad wasn’t comfortable with. And because Stiles was such a klutz he dropped the sauce bowl, making sauce spill onto his shirt and the floor. 

“Urgh- gross,” He stood up and made his way to the sink, took off the shirt (careful not to get any sauce on his other clothes), and held it underneath the water. 

“Stiles?” The Sheriff’s voice sounded hesitant and confused from behind him. 

“Just a sec, dad!” 

“Nuh-uh, I think the shirt can wait…” 

The shirt’s white color was pretty much ruined by then, so, with a sigh, Stiles dumped his only (previously) white shirt into the sink, and turned to see his dad looking at him with wide eyes and a loopy smile. 

“Son, when’s the last time you looked at your back in the mirror?” 

“Uhm, that would be around… never?” 

“I think you should have, because you have your Words between your shoulder blades.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I apologize for the cliffhanger...but not really :P))


	4. Yellow Bucks and a Ducket of Emotions (or Yellow Ducks and a Bucket of Emotions)

_“Son, when’s the last time you looked at your back in the mirror?”_

_“Uhm, that would be around… never?”_

_“I think you should have, because you have your Words between your shoulder blades.”_

 _______

“What?!”

“Yeah, right there between your shoulder blades! It’s a tricky place to get your Words, because you don’t notice it as quickly as with other pla-”

“DAD!” Stiles exclaimed, his voice booming in the kitchen. John was taken aback, but let Stiles speak.

“What do they say?”

His father twirled his index finger, and Stiles turned, so his back was to the other man.

Stiles’ heart hammered in his chest, and the kitchen felt way hotter than it had a moment ago. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for.

“It-” The Sheriff started reading, and Stiles held his breath. “Looks like it’s been on your back for a while. If it had been new, it would have been more blurry, so this must be almost two weeks old…”

“What- is that my Words?” He asked, confusion making him dizzy – or maybe he was dizzy because he’d been holding his breath…

“Wow, those would be unfortunate Words to have!” The man at his back laughed, and Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something incredibly rude.

“Okay, Stiles, your Words are:” The Sheriff spoke, “ _What are you reading?_ ”

Stiles gasped. Derek’s words when they’d first met.

“What?” He whispered, not really believing it yet.

“Yeah, right here, _What are you reading?_ ” John repeated.

“YES!” Stiles jumped eagerly, and pumped his fists into the air. He turned and grasped his dad’s shoulders. “Wait, you’re sure – one hundred percent sure – that’s what it says, right?”

John gave him a disgruntled look. “Son, I may not be young anymore, but I can still comprehend a simple sentence, dammit.”

Could it be that… _Derek_ was his Soul Mate? Why hadn’t he said something? Stiles thought back to their date at the coffee shop, when Stiles had asked him about his Words, and Derek had answered _It’s complicated_. Stiles didn’t know what that meant, but he did know one thing:  
He needed to talk to Derek.

 _______

“He-ey Scott!” Stiles drawled when he answered the ringing phone. “What’s up? Kinda busy here.”

“Busy? Too busy for your best friend?” Scott laughed, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Nah, just…” He paused. Was it too soon to tell him? He hadn’t even talked to Derek yet… He pushed away the uncertain thought that maybe Derek wouldn’t want him, when he told him they were Soul Mates, and took a deep breath. “I got my Words.” Stiles breathed out in a hurry.

“Sorry? You got your Words?!” If a kicked dog could talk, it would sound like Scott at that moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I kinda found out not ten minutes ago.”

“What does it say?”

“ _What are you reading?_ ”

“So now you’re just waiting for someone to say it, huh?”

“Uhh- yeah, no, someone already did…”

“Wha-” Scott exclaimed. “Jeez, Stiles, I’m gone for a week and I miss all the important stuff?”

“Yeah, basically.” Stiles laughed. “But Scott I gotta go, dude! I have to see my Mate. I’m not sure he knows we’re Soul Mates, and I don’t know how his reaction’s gonna be, but yeah…” _Will he even want me?_ “He deserves to know.”

“You got his number?” Scott asked, and suddenly Stiles got the blaringly obvious thought, that he didn’t even know _how_ to contact Derek. The other man hadn’t given him his phone number, address, or anything of the like. But he _had_ given him his last name! Stiles sprinted up the stairs to his room. He opened the door to find the room empty. Shit, that’s right, he’d _moved out_ , so his computer was back at his own apartment.

“Stiles? You there?” Scott asked over the phone.

“Uh-huh. Yep, still here.” Stiles mumbled. “Juuuust gotta… find something…- HEY DAD, WHERE’S YOUR COMPUTER?”

“I TOLD YOU LAST WEEK, IT’S BEING REPAIRED, BECAUSE-”

“OH! NO, I REMEMBER NOW.” Stiles yelled back. Scott huffed over the phone, annoyed at not knowing what was going on.

“Why do you need a computer?” He asked.

“If I’m to find Derek’s address, stupid.”

“Dude, you don’t exactly need a computer for that. Do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Wha- oh,” Stiles just got it. “And I’d always thought I was the smart one, Scotty.”

“Don’t call me Sco-”

“DAD, WHERE’S THE PHONEBOOK?” Stiles bellowed to the man downstairs, not bothering to hold a hand over the phone’s transmitter, and he grinned when he heard the sound of Scott’s surprised groan. “ _Dude_ … not cool.”

“IT’S DOWN HERE, NOW _STOP_ WITH THE YELLING, STILES.”

Stiles bounced back down the steps, and when he entered the kitchen, his dad had already gotten the phonebook in his hands.

“Who are we looking up?”

“Derek Hale.”

The Sheriff nodded, and swiftly opened the heavy book.

“What’s happening?” Scott asked.

“We’re looking up my Mate’s address the old-fashioned way.” Stiles answered. When the Sheriff looked up, Stiles gestured to the phone, and mouthed ‘Scott’.

“Hale, Hale, Hale…” John Stilinski murmured as he flipped through the pages, and after a moment he suddenly exclaimed with great enthusiasm: “Hale! Derek Hale. His address is 17th Morrison Street!”

Stiles was out of the door before his dad had finished saying ‘street’. He said a quick goodbye to Scott, and hung up.

His jeep was back at the apartment, so Stiles went by foot. Luckily Morrison Street wasn’t too far away. Back in High School, he’d used to drive past the street every day, so he knew exactly where it was. It was a side street to the main road. In the mornings many runners chose that street to run down, because it led to a small park, but when Stiles went down the street, looking for house number 17, it was around 10 PM, and the street was deserted.

Stiles counted the house numbers as he ran past them. 11, 13, 15, – _17!_

As far as he could see in the darkness, it was a two-story house that had been painted red. An open garage adorned the space next to the house, and Stiles only _just_ warded off his desire to sneak a peek at Derek’s car. A porch led to the front door, and the fact that _his Soul Mate was behind that door_ was the only thing on Stiles’ mind.

The house’s windows were mostly dark except for two that still shone brightly.

His hands felt clammy, and his stomach fluttered more and more with each passing second, so Stiles made the decision to get this over with before he lost his nerve. A couple of seconds later, Stiles was knocking on Derek’s door.

He heard the sound of feet lightly hitting wooden stairs, and then light flooded the two slim windows on either side of the front door.

When the door finally opened, Stiles almost fell over from laughter. There, in the doorway, was Derek, his mighty Soul Mate, wearing dark blue pajamas with small yellow ducks all over it.

“No, this is way to good!” Stiles giggled, pointing at the smiling ducks on Derek’s clothes. “Are you serious? Did you spend money on that?”

“It was a Christmas present from Laura…” Derek grunted but he had a pleased glint in his green eyes. “Well, this is certainly a surprise visit, Stiles. As you can see from my impressive outfit, I wasn’t expecting you.”

The younger man sobered as he remembered why he was currently standing on the Hale’s porch.

“Can I come in?” He asked. Stiles was trying to come across as nonchalant, but he guessed any chance of that had flown out the window as soon as he’d walked all the way from his father’s house to Derek’s at 10 o’clock at night.

Derek stepped aside, so he could walk in. The older man led Stiles into the house’s living room. A non-lit fireplace, bookcases that lined the walls, a dark green couch that was not getting any younger, and a hardwood living room table gave the place a rustic feel. Images of cold winter nights in front of the flickering fire popped into Stiles’ mind, and made him smile. He realized that this was exactly the kind of place he’d imagined Derek would live in.

“No television?” The question willed itself out of his mouth partly because of his never-ending curiosity, but mostly because he was postponing the conversation they would soon have. Stiles still didn’t know exactly how he would phrase his new discovery, and he needed more time.

“Bedroom.” Derek explained, his eyes never leaving Stiles, as if he were analyzing each and every one of his movements, and storing the information.

“Is that an invitation?” Stiles drawled, and wiggled his eyebrows. Derek rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder the eyeballs didn’t just pop right out of his head.

“As much as I enjoy your company, I wish you would get to the reason why you’re here, Stiles.”

Stiles fake-pouted dramatically, but then let out a sigh. _Okay, here it goes._

“I got my Words.” He let out promptly, and Derek sucked in a breath sharply.

“Dammit,” Derek growled. Stiles flinched at the harshness of the word. “I had thought- well, _hoped_ – that we could be together. Even though we aren’t Soul Mates, I wanted to be with you. But this changes everything now.” The older man spoke quietly, not even looking at Stiles. But Stiles was definitely looking at Derek, because that man looked _devastated_. As if a light bulb lightened in his head, he suddenly knew what Derek was talking about – what he thought was happening right now. Derek thought that when Stiles said he had gotten his Words, it meant he had gotten them _after_ he’d met Derek. But that wasn’t it at all!

“No, Derek!” Stiles exclaimed, surprising the Hale enough to get his gaze back on him. Without warning, Stiles stood up, turned around, and pulled his shirt over his head.

“What are y-”

Silence filled the room. Stiles swallowed nervously. The sound of Derek standing from the couch, and moving toward his uncovered back, reached his ears. He shivered a bit in the room that had been warmer when he’d had his shirt on. He wondered when he could take his shirt back on, because he was feeling vulnerable. All Stiles’ discomfort disappeared as fast as they’d appeared, when warm fingers touched his back in a smooth glide. _Derek_. He was caressing Stiles where the Words stood out black as ink against his pale skin.

Derek then took hold of his shoulder, and turned him around, so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Without a word, the older man pulled his shirt up a bit. On the smooth expanse of his stomach, just to the right of his navel was _Hello_ written. An inky black Word. The first thing Stiles had ever said to Derek.

“I got this three weeks before we met at the coffee place,” Derek’s voice was both soft and rough at the same time, heavy with emotion. “It frustrated me, because every time someone said that word to me, I thought _this is it, this person is my Soul Mate_. Each time I was wrong. And when you said the word, I didn’t know you were… that _we_ were- I just knew that it didn’t matter if you weren’t my Soul Mate, because all I just wanted – _want_ – is to be with you.”

Derek exhaled a long breath, and repeated: “I want to be with you.”

Before Stiles could say anything, Derek frowned and spoke: “Stiles, why didn’t you tell me about your Words?”

“I didn’t know – because they are on my back I only just found out tonight.”

The older man nodded understandingly, and stroked Stiles’ jaw with his hand, smiling at him.

“Stiles, you can’t imagine how happy I am that we’re Soul Mates,” He whispered.

 _Yes, I can imagine actually_ , Stiles thought, but Derek was already continuing.

“And I will try my best to give you everything you deserve.”

“I only want you, Derek, and you’ve already given me more than enough, you know.” He whispered hoarsely, and averted his gaze; because never had he been on the receiving end of the kind of look that Derek was giving him. And the feelings Stiles was subject to around Derek – happiness, trust, _love_ – both overjoyed and scared him. It felt like his whole life had led up to that moment with Derek, and all his worries and the pain of the past slipped away. It was only Stiles and Derek. And now Derek was looking at him like Stiles was mesmerizing, fascinating, and _beautiful_. Stiles was so lucky to have him as his Soul Mate.

“I am so lucky.” He whispered, only realizing he’d said it out loud, when Derek tilted his head up with the tender hand on his jaw, so Stiles had to meet his gaze.

They didn’t notice who moved first, but when their lips met, it didn’t matter anyway.

 

That night they slept in Derek’s bed. Their legs entangled, and Stiles lying partly on Derek, partly on the mattress, they slept peacefully, and when Derek woke Stiles up in the morning by pressing light, loving kisses to his neck, the first thing Stiles did what send a text to the coffee shop’s manager:

_Not coming to work. Found my Mate. See you in a week._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all you lovely people for reading! Your comments have kept me writing, and have put a smile on my face :)  
> This was the last chapter, and I hope you've all enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> This work is loosely inspired by You Are Inked On My Skin Long Before We Begin (by milominderbinder)  
> You can find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1561952


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